


One more please, barkeep

by tari_roo



Category: Grimm (TV), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Aftermath, Gen, Random strangers at a bar are cool, Steve walks into a bar, Team!Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 15:56:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tari_roo/pseuds/tari_roo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for <a href="http://intoabar.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://intoabar.livejournal.com/"></a><b>intoabar</b> challenge. In the aftermath of a monster invasion, Steve walks into a bar in Portland</p>
            </blockquote>





	One more please, barkeep

Title: One more please, barkeep  
Author: [](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/profile)[**tari_roo**](http://tari-roo.livejournal.com/)  
Prompt: Steve Rogers walks into a bar and meets Sgt. Wu  
Fandoms: Avengers and Grimm  
Word Count: 889  
Rating/Contents: Gen PG  
Summary: written for [](http://intoabar.livejournal.com/profile)**intoabar** challenge. I blame evil!auntmo for everything now  
Disclaimer: I own nothing, and no one, alas. But if I did... *rubs hands together* Cap would wear less shirts

The stupid flashy card thing was flickering bright red, apparently signalling that he’d reached his destination. Steve sighed, winced and debated on going inside the moderately unscathed bar.

Portland was safe. They’d saved the day again – prevented a city from sliding off the map into another dimension.  
But not without cost, not without loss of civilian life.

Rogers palmed the card and trudged towards the door, the rough wail of overly loud, tinny, tuneless noise already audible. His team, his friends were supposedly inside, ‘chilling out’ as Clint liked to say after a rough mission. Personally, Steve would have preferred to have washed up first, wiped off the dust and grime… and monster blood. He was starving though, stomach churning with anticipant need.  
The door felt solid and heavy under his hand, but moved easily and a wave of life and noise and voices crashed over him as he entered. The bar was packed, the press of bodies and voices close and lively. For an instant, Steve nearly stopped and turned around, the contrast too extreme, too loud, too much.

Someone shouldered past him, keen to get in, knocking him slightly as they did so. “Oh, sorry, excuse me.” The guy shot him an apologetic smile, his face tired, and worn – mirroring how Steve felt. Steve froze, his eyes suddenly fixed on the stranger, and maybe that was enough to draw the man’s gaze, or maybe it was the years of fine honed instincts or maybe they were both just too tired.  
The guy was a cop. Uniform, badge, world weary, dedicated, policeman. Flicking his eyes around the room, Steve belatedly noticed that just about everyone was a cop, or some sort of emergency response personnel. Firemen. Medics. Cops. Heroes.

“Say, aren’t you…”

The Sergeant was smiling at him, the soft stupid grin of a kid and Steve extended his hand, matching smile for grin. “Hey.”

“Hey,” the cop replied, shaking his hand, pumping it enthusiastically. “I’d heard you guys were here. Helping out. Thanks.”  
Steve shrugged, “Happy to help.”

“Name’s Sergeant Wu. Come on in, first drink’s on me.”

“I…”

Wu though was already walking through the crowd, waving him forward even as he greeted other people he knew. Drawn forward by politeness and the need to get out of the doorway, Steve followed him and nodded at various warm welcoming smiles. His entire trip to the bar was accompanied by words of thanks, slaps on the back, out stretched hands.

Grime, smoke covered faces beaming at him. Medics with sad, knowing eyes who’d seen a hell of a lot today, smiling brightly at him. Hardened cops. Gritty firefighters. All smiling, all joking and all buoyant with life, even if it was underpinned by sorrow for those they had been unable to save, those they had lost. The curious heady mix of surviving when others had not. Oh, how Steve knew that feeling. Remembered it like it was just yesterday. Surrounding by men and women glad to be alive, toasting to friends and comrades they had lost. Singing instead of crying.

The clamour of voices and music was loud at the long wooden bar, the press of people dense but welcoming. Sergeant Wu shoved a tall, frothy glass of beer into his hand and raised one himself. “Cheers!” Rogers tipped his glass, silently returning the toast. He slapped Wu gently on the back as the jovial guy downed his beer in one go. Steve took a long drag on his glass, enjoying the taste even if the buzz was lost on him.

Wu was waving someone over and before Steve knew it he was shaking hands with two plainsclothe detectives, more uniforms, a very cute looking EMT and the overworked but happy barkeep. As much as Steve appreciated the gratitude, it felt a little awkward being thanked for doing what anyone would have done. What they had all been doing. Wu, his friends and fellow public servants had been out on the streets, trying to deal with the weird plague of monsters from another dimension, and they had been doing so without the reassurance of super powers.

One of the detectives raised his glass, and said, “Just when you thought Portland couldn’t get any weirder!”

Tired, happy, relieved faces. Men and women dedicated to doing what was right, what was needed. It was a privilege standing with them, surrounded by their laughter, the celebration of surviving another day.

“Hey, there you are.”

Steve turned and Clint was behind him, expression matching his – bemused and relaxed. “We’re back here.”  
Through the crowd, Rogers glimpsed his team, his friends, clustered around a table overburdened with food. Thor and Bruce were competing to see who could shove the most food in their mouths… again, while Natasha was smirking at Stark, who was waving his arms dramatically, no doubt reinventing the course of events she had missed.

“You coming?”

Clint’s face was bruised, a deep cut etching his eyebrow, his leather more grey than black.

“Yeah.”

Steve bumped Wu on the shoulder, in thanks, and the little guy nodded happily, raising another full glass in a toast.

“To Portland!”

To Portland.

Fin


End file.
